Sparks Flying
by NorthernShinigami
Summary: Angels ambush Dean and Cas in a warehouse to ask some question. What questions? Doesn't matter. What matters is how Dean gets rid of them, and what happens to Cas when he does. Jaws takes place. Ficklets, one-shots, all genres, all categories. Open for requests (but I make no promises). and, uh, title changed... again.
1. Slash-Bender

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural, nor does any other fangirl. Still doesn't help much for the Cast's sanity.

 **Idea source/prompt/summary:** Supernatural has it all. Ghosts, vampires, magic, angels, demons, fairies, heaven  & hell, death, life, family, love, fan-service, Ho-Yay, Foe-Yay, TV parodies, time travel, porn, protagonists possessed by evil or antagonists trying to be good, turning into kids, old men, cars, and there's even _God_. I _swear_ the only thing missing is _Gender Bender_.

 **Warnings:** Crack. Half-assed Gender bender and sexual allusions...male-to-male wise but come on, you must be used to it by now, no? xD

* * *

At first, he just stared, going blank, expressionless, staring. It was the same reaction when he first heard the word _Destiel_ at that Play. Dean was repulsed, and kinda disturbed. He liked Cas, sure, but not like _that_ , and refused to hear any word about it. Sam, on the other hand, found it all oh-so-amusing, even tried to come up with more name combinations. Not just for Dean and Cas, but himself as well.

Sammy wants to be open-minded? _Fine_. But this? _No_. Dean officially and unceremoniously has had _enough_.

"Uh...Alright. Okay." he paused, licking his lips, looking up, down, left, right, everywhere around but at Sammy. "You know what?" He smiled and finally looked straight at him, "That's it. I'm not doing this."

"Dean—"

"No, Sammy! I'm done! You can —you can turn me old, make me a brat, make me a-a coward, a _Demon_ , Death for a day, make up _absurd_ things about my sexuality that're _not_ true, laugh about it all you want, kill me, torture me, kill you, turn both of us into bloodsucking Vamps, turn Cas into a laughing maniac or turn _you_ into my freaking _car_ but this? No." he stated firmly. "Just... no, Sam." he stuttered, switching between a forced humorless smile that more resembled a cringe and a deadpanned expression, jaw tight. " _Hell_ no." he slammed the door to his room shut in his younger brother's face.

Sam flinched back at the slam, arms spread wide to his sides, eyes open in shock. "D-dude! Dean! The hell? Come on, open up!" he called, banging on the door in disbelief. "You think _I_ did this?!"

It took a few seconds before the bedroom door opened again.

He was telling himself it was dream, and that he must still be dreaming.

But he wasn't.

Dean swallowed, tasting the lump in his throat, jumping eyes from his brother's face to his... well...

 _Bosom_. Very full, _feminine_ , _at least_ Double D cup-size breasts, and Sammy — _obviously_ — didn't have a bra. Dean would have been impressed if he wasn't freaking the shit out.

 _Well, Sammy was always a_ _big guy._

 _ **. . .**_

"Wanna feel them up?"

The glare Dean cast him could have scared Lucifer back into the Cage. Sam rolled his eyes. "You were staring."

Dean turned around furiously and refused to look at him again.

"Come on, I'm joking! They're not even mine!"

"Oh s-so what? They have a will of their own, is that what you're saying? They're not c-connected to your body, is that it? So if I touch them you —w-won't—f-feel— _I can't do this_!" he cried and turned away angrily, desperate.

"Dean! Where are you going?"

"To summon a Douchebag, _Goddamnit_! There's only one Ass we know who can pull this crap off and if he doesn't reverse this shit back I'm ganking his ass in all the holy oil we've got!"

 **. . .**

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You think this is funny, you twisted 'sycho?" Good ol' Dean, always the welcoming committee.

But he was met with silence.

Complete and utter silence. Awkward, for few good seconds. They could even hear the birds of morning chirp happily on the tree branches above their heads.

But no, Gabe really _did_ plan to say something at first. I mean, it's not every day that the Winchesters pray to you (unless you're _Castiel_ ), but why would they call _Gabriel?_ Gabriel was curious, so he came. Had all sorts of witty replies, like _'what, it's your boytoy's day off?'_ or _'Well well well, look who's crawling for who for help'_ (whatever help they need), _'Plan on ruining another cover for me this lovely day?'_ or the simple, effective _'Hello, boys. And what can your friendly Uncle trickster do for you today?'_

But then he saw Dean, looking grave as if the Devil just killed his soul and Sam standing beside him— _Sam standing beside him_.

He didn't even care for the holy fire suddenly circling him.

Giant (and ironically the younger of the two), ridiculously handsome Sam with his girly hair framing his face and a buttoned shirt open at the top and quite the big cleavage because apparently his shirt wasn't big _enough_ to, huh, button it all up and apparently Sam's a _chick_ now! So _yeeeah_ , for maybe the first time in centuries, Gabriel was kinda speechless?

Oh no, he had things to say; Lots and _lots_ of things(!), but the opening line? It was the punchline, and you get only one chance at that. It has to be _perfect_. Like the one in the _Sampala_.

Sam-slash-Impala. The Winchester Gospel fans used that word. God bless the soul of the genius who invented it.

Yeah, the Sampala. The _Sampala_ was good. He could use it. Add another line to it, something easy on the tongue and catchy...yup, that will do.

" _Sam!_ Get the _load_ of the _boobies_ on you! Really putting it out for the fans now, are we?" he was still staring at Sam's load — ah, _newly acquired assets_. Somehow his tone changed from impressed to stunned mid-sentence, eyes openly staring. That was freaky, even for him. Sam had _boobs_ , but his face and manly features hadn't changed one bit, including the shaving marks of his daily morning stubble. Now that was just _creepy_. Makes you wonder what's going on _down there_.

Sam grimaced a forced a snarky smile. "And as I said before: _Eat me_."

"Uh, _Ew_?" Gabriel grimaced, looking up to him with one eyebrow raised, but kept gesturing to the cleavae. "You sure? I mean, I don't mind exploring my borrowed sexuality occasionally but humans usually have their preferences, _soo_..."

Sam's smile dropped like a rock, regretting he said anything. _Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say while in_ this _body._

 **. . .**

"So you sayin' you didn't do it?"

"Oh, it's a nice job alright, _great_ even, _very_ impressive! But it ain't me. Sorry bucko." He shrugged. "You have to be a real psycho to think up something like _that_. Fangirls maybe?"

" _Okay_ then, moving to the _next_ douchebag." Dean went for the spray can and Sam tipped over a water bucket to put out the holy flames.

 **. . .**

"Moose, really putting out the double O in your name, are you?" Crowley looked him up and down from within a Devil's trap, visibly pausing on his chest, way too long for Sam's comfort. He tried to play it with ease and prevent himself from freaking out even _more_ than he already was—he got a heart attack when he first woke up and saw himself in the mirror this morning... and felt himself. The panic was genuinely probably one of the strongest he has ever felt. Lucifer free? Dean dying over and over again in a loopholed day? These were nothing compared to this. _Nothing_. He was mortified. "Hey, eyes up here, dickbag!" Dean snapped, much to Sam's gratitude.

"Thanks," he sighed in relief.

"Don't thank me, he was _staring_." Dean scowled. "It was _creepy_."

"Please, like _you_ didn't stare. If it's some twisted fantasy coming to life that would be straight out of Dean Winchester's head, _Mr. I like my pornstars Asian and busty_ —Okay okay, shutting up! No need for violence, please." Crowley lifted his hands in resignation when Dean advanced on him with Ruby's knife. "But really, you can't blame me for staring! You should cover these things, Moose, or at least put on a bra. They really attract the eyes, these _melons_ of yours. Don't you have at least a speck of dignity left?" Crowley objected critically, eyeing Sam up and down again.

"I—you—if you _really have_ to know my all shirts were too tight—and I'm not hearing this from _you_!"

"Hey, _I'm_ always covered."

"You're a _Demon_. What do you know about dignity?"

"More than I need to, apparently. How did this even happen?" He gestured with his head to Sam's figure, hands in pockets.

"You tell me. Last I checked you and Sammy weren't on the best of terms." Dean circled around Crowley's Devil's trap like a wolf. "Not that you and _me_ are on good terms, but, huh—"

"You and _I._ " Crowley corrected.

"Whatever. He tried to gank you several times. Even tried to shut Hell for good, took the trials on himself and all that? I won't be surprised if this is your idea of a—of some kind of a sick joke for revenge or—"

Crowley rolled his eyes. " _Please_ , if I wanted Moose in my bad I wouldn't bother changing the one good thing between his _legs_ —"

 _"D-Dude! Dean—"_

"Yeah? So what was that about Sam in stilettos and leather something a while back ago?"

" _Dean!"_ this was _not_ how Sam imagined the interrogation going.

" _Stilettos and leather_. I like that. Very dark, gothic. Why didn't I try that with the loophole day I trapped you in? You could have _whipped_ Dean to death. Well, you were always the Hell-related brother." Gabriel zapped beside him, sucking on a lollipop.

"I—y-you— _What?_ "

"You _know_ ;" Gabe looked at Sam innocently, "banged a demon, got high on Demon blood, was Satan's vessel? Kinda ironic considering you're supposed to be the nicer of the two."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Hey, Dean's the Heaven-related brother: banged an angel, the righteous man, was supposed to be Michael's vessel, and he didn't even believe in God and angels at first. Now, first sign of trouble, calls his own privet wing-man. Speaking of which," he removed the candy from his mouth, "why don't you call him? See what Cassie has to say about _these_."

Sam's jaw tightened. Great, now was being _objectified_.

 **. . .**

But Cas being Cas… was being _Cas_. There was really no other way to put it. It was _Cas_. The guy evolved, devolved and changed personlities like women changing shoes. He could be serious and useful one moment, then plain ridiculous the next. You didn't know what to expect from him anymore.

Cas tilted his head slightly, squinting. He seemed very interested in Sam's chest at first, like everyone else, until his eyes traveled down.

"Interesting."

"Interesting? That's all you have to say— _interesting_?"

"W-well, if someone was going to play _Gender-Bender_ you'd expect them to go all the way, but it seems Sam's original male genitalia are still intact—" Dean got dangerously close in his face.

"Stop. Talking. _Now_."

"Oh oh, he went to places I wouldn't dare." Gabe hummed dramatically and poured himself a drink, a bottle and a glass appearing in his hands out of nowhere. Crowley inspected it with interest, also having appeared out of nowhere right beside him on the couch.

A sofa that wasn't there before either, in the Bunker's library. But Gabriel decided to make himself comfortable and clicking things in place out of thin air was his thing.

"Really? You've been here on Earth all this time and never tried to do it with a man? and people said you were an adventurer."

"I _meant_ looking down Sam's pants. That's too creepy with these things juggling around. Some things you just can't erase from your own memory, ya know?" Gabe gestured with his head to Sam's bosom. "How'd you get in anyway?"

"I pretended to escape but lurked behind. Luckily for me Mr. Lady Bunny* and her fanboy left the door unlocked. So Moose still got his dangly bit? Didn't know angels have X-ray. What are you having?"

"Everclear. Want some?"

Crowley stared at him. "Quite the heavy choice you've got here. Thanks, but pass. Glencraig is more my style. Everclear is overrated. I really drink more for the taste."

The quiet could have lasted longer, even with one man, one man-slash-woman-slash-in-question and one angel with their noses in books, and an archangel and demon relaxing on a sofa.

But no, not really.

"If it makes you feel any better, there was a chicken named Georgina in North Devon of the United Kingdom that underwent a rarely natural sex swap and is now a bossy cockerel named George*."

Dean and Sam slowly lifted their heads from the books and laptop (Dean had grudgingly switched to books after being exposed to some disturbing images online. Should have seen this coming, really —if he was going to search something like _sex-swaps_ spells and _gender-bender_...) and exchanged looks, both inhaling deeply.

"Cas, how about you go snooping around the Bunker for a while?" Dean said very, _very_ patiently. "Look for a hex bag in Sam's room or anything else in the house that could cause... this. Look everywhere. Just... take your time." he smiled.

Gabe watched Cas leave the room. "If I knew being around them was so entertaining I would have stuck longer."

"It's their Angel. He provides the gag relief, with these two being so stuck up and gloomy lately, and he doesn't even realize it."

"I know!" Gabe whined in high-pitch, "I mean, just try and kill one of them as a joke and the other gets all high on hormones. Once, I had Dean smashed to death by dropping a desk on him on the street, you'd think it was hilarious but Sam broke into tears. I mean, you should have seen the look on his face, no wonder he sprouted lady parts! If it was one of us saying something like this they would have kicked our asses already, but _Cassie_..."

"Cas always gets a free pass." Crowley agreed.

"If _you_ two don't shut up now _you'll_ get a free pass out the damn window."

Sam's brows furrowed. "...We've got a window?

 **. . .**

"Nothing. Nada. Jack squat. Cas searched the entire house and we've got nothing. No hex bags, no hidden spells, no nothing."

"You don't think these Sex-change by magic sites are real, right?" Sam joked, but deep down, deep deep down... he was getting paranoid.

"No way man. It's all scams. If these things were real we would have heard about it by now."

"It's a spell. Gotta be. I mean, what about the Hansel and Gretel Witch that turned you into a kid? A Witch could do something like this."

They looked at each other, a sudden realization flickering in their eyes. "You don't think—"

"It's not her." Crowley called from the sofa. Trick or not, the thing was cozy. He and the archangel settled into reading magazines while the Winchesters did their whatever.

"How do you know?"

Crowley picked out behind his magazine. "As much I hate to provide _mother_ an alibi, I know her: she wouldn't waste her powers on something so..." he eyed Sam again, much to his discomfort, "ridiculous. And trivial." he added.

"He's got a point." Cas murmured, though discontent, from the table and flipped a page in a book he was checking. He didn't like the evil woman, but it didn't fit Rowena to do something like this. "Do you know any other witch who could hold a grudge against you to—" he stopped mid-sentence, rethinking his words slowly, head tilted. "Although, _is_ this considered a _grudge_? Maybe it's a he-witch that has taken a liking to you, Sam. Or homosexsual female witch—"

"Hey, yeah!" Dean beamed, glad to have a lead, any lead. "Maybe it's the Clap guy? You know, the he-witch who gambled on years? What's his name, Patrick?"

"A he-witch gave you the clap?" Crowley spoke at the same time as Gabe said: " _Really?_ Wasn't the genital herpes enough?" both ears perked up with interest.

"Wha— _No_. _You_ —shut up. _Dean_ —" he flat out denied and turned to his brother, "we haven't run into him in _years_ , he doesn't even know where I live and Cas, seriously, I know you're just trying to help, but please... don't say anything anymore. _Please_." little giant brother looked tired. He leaned back in his chair, arching his spine. "Awe. Man, my back hurts. How do women go around with these things? They're so _heavy_ —"

"Ask your bro, he's the one with the thing for busty Asian beauties. He probably sees this all the time." Gabe hummed and flipped a page in his magazine, crossed-leg and all. Dean glared.

"Says the guy who stars _La Casa Erotica!_ "

"Not _all_ the time, and the real stars are the _ladies_ , you know that. Also, they're not always busty. You really got a good taste here, Deano, but you should diminish your horizons sometimes. Small can be nice too. I mean, you're short, right? You should know! Oh, but about your little giant's brother little _big_ issue, guess that only leaves the crazy fangirl theory, huh?" Gabe continued and between figuring out what the hell he just said and delaying the urge to punch him to a more suited time, Dean got a clear view at the cover of the magazine he was reading. It was a playboy or something, with old, dusty red cover and—

"Woah, _hey_ , is that my Voluptuous Asian Lovelies you're holding with your filthy hands?!" Dean was about to really punch him when something clicked.

He halted.

"Dude," he turned to Sam and gestured meaningfully. "Fangirl?"

"...?"

" _Crazy_ fangirl? Love potion? Crossroads deal and last-minute Vegas-style wedding? Rings any bells?"

"Huh... oh _no_ , you don't _think_ —" Sam groaned.

 _Please, no._

" _Becky_."

* * *

*Yup. That's a real thing. A transgender chicken. Lady Bunny is a drag queen and... there are actual sex-swap spell sites. I'v checked it all *hiss*.


	2. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural,

 **Inspired by/idea surce:** **The First Kiss** , a SPN drabble by _CastielAnAngelOfTheLord_ (Here on site!) describing a brilliant idea (she) Gabriel had, and It inspired me to write this!

 **Warnings:** MaleXmale kissing.

* * *

"W-wh-wha—"

Sam had frozen in place, mouth hanging wide open. Dean would have had the same expression, with a touch _freaking-the-hell-out_ and a hint of _crazy bloodlust_ in his eyes, except his mouth was... _otherwise occupied._

Archangel or not, Gabriel was smashed back against the Bunker's wall in the blink of an eye. Literally. Dean blinked and gagged in confusion, lips parting and closing dumbly like a fish, suddenly stumbling and very much alone in his self-surrounding personal space. _What in the—_

" _What_. _Are you doing?_ "

 _"...Hey to you too, Bro_. _"_ Gabe groaned painfully, trying to stretch his neck until he heard the satisfying clicks of the human bones. He grinned at the angel pinning him to the wall by the collar of his shirt, glaring down at him with his famous odd glare, faces inches apart.

The hiss in his tone was unmistakable. Though maybe it was just his deep voice.

"It is rude _and_ illegal to impose yourself on someone like that." Castiel said. "Dean is very mindful of his personal space. You should ask for permission before kissing him... or someone else, for that matter." he paused. "Unless they kiss you first."

...Yeah, _that_ was problem here. And Sam and Dean would voice out their opinions on that too, as soon as they find their voices again. Which might not happen anytime soon, because Dean has vanished into the nearest bathroom to brush his teeth (mouth? Tongue? Scrap _the shit out of it,_ more like) and might not have actually heard any of this, and Sam was still stuck on mute.

"I was just messing around. Not my problem that your boyfriend's a homophobe in denial."

"He's not-…" Castiel drifted, eyes squinting in thought.

Gabe looked at him expectantly, "Your boyfriend, a homophobe or _in denial_?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively. Cas probably did the double-take on the _homophobe_ part, and Dean really _wasn't_ a homophobe, but he _did_ tend to freak out a bit when the subject involved him directly. And while it wasn't in Castiel's nature to lie ( _most times_ ), he didn't want to badmouth Dean. Result; a standstill in comeback.

It was fun to tease him, though.

"You—" Gabriel glanced aside to see Dean coming back from the bathroom, "I'm going to burrn you alive. Sam, get the holy oil." he managed the grunt somewhat decently between his tongue and the toothbrush, frantically scrubbing the insides of his mouth with loads of toothpaste he spat into the water cup he was holding in his other hand, like he just tasted something very bitter and rotten.

The douchebag didn't just kiss him, he _frenched_ him, that _son of a bitch_.

"Hey, I _fresh-spritzed_ my breath before doing it, so it's not me." he argued against Dean's killer glare and his toothbrush battling his aftertaste. Pause. " _Well_ , I _might_ have had _lollipop_ earlier..."

"Uh-huh," Sammy finally found his voice, not knowing where to look at first; his brother with the crazy glint in his eyes, the Trickster who suddenly dropped out of nowhere to _kiss_ his _brother_ or Castiel, who has just appeared to pull them apart. He thought addressing Castiel was the sanest choice but his brain couldn't produce coherent words yet, so he shut his mouth and just set on staring at Gabriel like he was... _something_.

"Oh, for the love of—I was _joking_. Can't you take a joke?" Gabriel rolled his eyes, noticing the brothers staring at him, "I'm just messing around. Here, _watch_ —" he suddenly grabbed the lapels of Castiel's trenchcoat and pulled him closer, smashing their lips together.

Dean choked and gagged on his toothpaste, accidently swallowing it and Sam looked even more mortified, gaping like a fish. And Cas... froze. Like a statue.

Gabriel didn't mind, the kiss seemed to go on forever even though the Seraph didn't actually respond.

Never mind that Gabriel and Castiel were technically _brothers_ , if Gabriel referring to him as one was enough of a proof. But _that_ was a whole other different can of warms no one wanted to dwell on at the moment.

But they couldn't blame Cas, not really. Dean was in the same state of mind blanking out and the archangel was off him before he could regain his senses and react, and Sam...

A painful thought crossed Sam's mind, making him pale in horror. He remembered their first encounter with _Cupid_. The naked, chubby guy who insisted on bone-crashing hugging all three of them. Dean was also the first back then, then Cas and then—

 _Oh, no._

"I-I'm getting the holy oil." he whispered hoarsely with swallowed bile and started backing away very, _very_ discreetly.

They should have still some left in that pitcher from Jerusalem.

* * *

 _CastielAnAngelOfTheLord's_ fic wasn't exactly like that, but it got me thinking 'What if Gabe _does_ kiss Dean?' lol


	3. Death - Walt 'n Roy

**Warnings:** SPOILERS - for SEASONS 10-11. Starting next line.

 **Summary - General plot:** Death is dead. Someone needs to fill the slot and, uh, take responsibility. Call it Dean's bargaining chip to get Sammy his ticket to Heaven when he dies, instead of being thrown into the Empty.

 **Summary-starring Guest-stars:** Walt and Roy (Form season 5, episode 16: Dark Side of the Moon). The two hunters who killed Sam because he jumpstarted the Apocalypse, and Dean because, according to Walt: _"_ _He made us and we just snuffed his brother, you idiot. You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester's on your ass?"_

* * *

 _"Wait. Will you tell me what it all means?"_

 _"Everything is dust in the wind."_

 _"That's it?! A Kansas song?!"_

And that was just his first day.

But now that Dean has been doing it for quite some time, he realized why the previous Death (the one he killed) was often detached and cynical toward people. It's not that he didn't care about humanity, but he was _Death_ , as old as God. If he has to kill each and every person whose number is up for the Reapers to reap with his own bare hands, how many souls by now have asked him stuff like _What it all means_ and _Why_ until he decided to stop doing it manually and went auto?

 _Countless. Billions_ and much, much more, so much that even after one measly year, it was getting old. Tossing away sophisticated philosophical retorts and song lyrics to mess with people was amusing at first, but it was getting tedious. Dean wondered if after a while Death didn't even bother to hang around and just took off elsewhere before the dead had any chance to even take a good look around, leaving the Reaper to collect the goods. Dean was doing so now himself, unless he happens to like what he sees (tag: _pretty chicks_ ), but sometimes he also stayed for guys with certain types of eyes (tag; _puppy dog eyes_ ), the elderly, and always for children.

Dean also discovered that when he borrowed the ring to play Death for a day, he didn't have even a tiny speck of the Big guy's true powers. Death can control weather, can move planets (not exactly easy, but possible with no other options present), can raise the dead, obviously someone huge like Death won't skid through every single soul that needs to die personally. Dean has a long way until he could reach even a squirt of the strength the old Death had, but being an Ex demonic Hell-Knight empowered by a creepy ancient mark has it's own quirks; like finally being able to exchange blows with freaking angels without breaking his damn knuckles.

Dean realized that people could still die without him having be in their vicinity, so it's not like he actually killed all hundred fifty thousand people a day himself, which was a huge relief.

Of course, it was more entertaining to off people yourself, but _come on_ , there's a limit even to _Dust in the Wind_ and AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_.

Dean also always makes a note to make personal visits to people he knows, until they'll all die eventually. And hunters.

Like _these_ two. Dean leaned on the bar-counter of the little place the nest prepared for himself for getting easy prey; it was a bar, just outside of town, and it was littered with bodies. Most of them were vampires, but the two hunters who got them didn't make it.

"D-Dean Winchester. Heard you were alive and kicking." Walt stammered, pretending to be brave. Roy just looked deathly pale.

"Dean? Yeah, sure. Not so much. I'm the _Grim Reaper_ now, and I'm here to _reap_ your hearts out."

They look terrified. And for a good reason. After they shot him to death, Dean promised Walt and Roy that he'll come back and he'll be pissed. They must have pissed _themselves_ when the name Dean Winchester popped up after the Apocalypse was averted, alive and taking on hunts like nothing happened.

Dean was enjoying this... maybe a little too much.

"Okay, fine, I'm joking! Look!" he said eventually and pushed himself from the bar, snapping his fingers to undo the illusion. Something flickered in their vision and the two looked down to the bodies scattered around. "Looks familiar?" he nodded toward the bodies that Walt and Roy hadn't noticed untill now, thinking it was one of the creeps they came here to kill.

"It's-it's me—and Walt? What—"

"We're dead." Walt deadpanned, looking at Dean blankly, getting pissed off. "We're ghosts. You killed us!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Souls, not ghosts. You just haven't been collected yet. And, please, If I really wanted you dead I would have gone after your sorry asses years ago, right after you blasted a cartridge into my brother's chest." He nudged Walt's corpse with his foot, not actually moving it. He glanced at the two, who backed away from him, fidgeting warily, aiming for their weapons on the floor, but, well, they couldn't exactly touch anything. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again.

"These Vamps killed you. Not me. I was just messing with you here. Call it my little payback for that time, not that it gives me anything but juvenile satisfaction since you're already dead. I mean, it's not like you can get any _deader_. It was my only shot." he shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "Kinda like your shot when you offed me and my brother."

"You're brother jumpstarted the Apocalypse." Walt argued. "And I wasn't dumb enough to let you go after seeing this; I value my life too much. Well," he looked at his bloody corpse on the floor of the bar the vampires run. " _Valued_ , anyway."

"But I heard you two fixed it, right? So it all turned out fine." Roy started. "Look man, we didn't _want_ to do it, we were just—"

"Scared? Angry? Save it. Too late for being sorry now." Dean cut him off. "You know, I really don't give a crap about myself, but anyone who hurts my brother doesn't just get to walk away. The only reason I didn't go after you was because Bobby and I had a talk." he said. "W-well, that and I didn't have the _time_ to waste on you two, but you got off lucky." he finished with his jaw set tight.

"Sir, should we take them now?" The two jumped at the voice and turned to see a man and a woman dressed in black suits who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"What? Take us where?" Walt asked suspiciously.

"These are _Reapers_ ," Dean drawled, mocking, as if talking to children. "so take a wild guess?"

"Why the _Reapers_ calling you _sir_?" Roy blurted out.

"Because I am _Death_ now, so that makes me their boss. Daddy Death? The Mother of all Reapers? Was dead serious about that Grim Reaper thing." He grinned, looking between the two hunters. "Get it? _Dead_ serious?"

"Death eats pie?" Walt's bro creased, noticing the slice in Dean's hand for the first time and completely ignoring the dry humor. The pie itself was on the bar behind him.

"Death _loves_ pie." Dean deadpanned gravely and bit on his the slice.

"I'd say it's an improvement." One of the reapers mumbled absent-mindedly. "The previous Death had a peculiar craving for junk food and _fried pickle chips_. I could never understand that."

"How is pie and cheeseburgers an improvement?" the shorter Reaper asked her male coworker quietly, tilting her head to look up at him in puzzlement, "It's as much junk food as the hot dogs and the pizza—"

"You done?" the two turned to see their boss staring at them.

"Uh..."

"Did it occur to you that Death likes junk food 'cause it's fast and tasty and while he— _we_ —... _I might_ seem like I have the time I really _don't_ have the time nor the patience to wait for a turkey to roast in the grill?" he sent his Reapers a calculating glare, who looked at each other embarrassed. "Snacks and burgers are tasty, cheap, and available. And let's be honest; the fat can't kill me." Dean smirked smugly. Then his face fell, snorting to himself.

"Although, I'm not entirely sure the _previous_ Death didn't like junk food just because all that unhealthy fat gives people heart attacks."

* * *

That was written before Billy, so I imagined two unnamed Reapers with British accents. And I really, _really_ want Dean to run into Walt and Roy again. Preferbly when he's in demon mode. Or not. Doesn't matter. It's _Dean,_ they'll still piss themselves lol.


	4. Jaws

**Warnings:** Spoilers for season 11! Starting next line!

 **Inspiration:** Season 11, episode 14 "The vessel". Where Lucifer, uh, misses submarine (lol) and plunges into the ocean instead. Also, reference to "Changing Channels."

 **Summary:** Angels ambush Dean and Cas in a warehouse to ask some question. What questions? Doesn't matter. What matters is _how_ Dean gets rid of them, and what happens to Cas when he does.

I wanted this to look... authentic, something that could happen in a general sense. But I needed a good enough reason for Dean to banish angels with the sigil, when I remembered the angels aren't very nice most times.

* * *

"Dean! Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. You?"

"I'm fine, but what happened in that warehouse? I tried to get in, but it's like the doors were sealed tight. Were these angels? Demons wouldn't have left me out like that,"

"Yeah, freaking angels had us ambushed, wanted to ask a few questions. I banished them before it could get ugly." Dean told his brother and looked around in alarm. "Hopefully they got what they came for and won't be back for seconds."

"Well, as long as you're good. I didn't know what the hell was happening, so I—wait, where's, uh...?" Sam drifted, leaving Dean to pick up the question and looked around. Dean swallowed. Sam gave him a bitch-face, understanding.

"You banished him too, didn't you."

Dean had the decency too look abashed. "I had to, okay? We were outnumbered, they started bitching and getting hostile—I didn't plan on sending him away, he just got caught in the blast." he tried to reason. "look, I'm sure he's fine. He recovers fast, usually make it back in ten. Not like it's his first rodeo."

"Next time, a _warning_ would be nice." a deep, grim voice gritted behind them and the two jumped in alert.

"Cas—"

" _Save it_."

"Look, I'm sorry, but—why are you _wet_? Is that blood? You hurt? What the hell happened to you? You were gone for like five minutes!" Dean sputtered the moment his eyes laid on the angel. Castiel stood with his shoulder to them in the empty lot by the warehouse, squeezing his trenchcoat like a rag, both him and the coat dripping so wet they were creating a pond on the concrete around his feet. Cas was drenched, not like getting-caught-in-the-rain wet, but fell-into-a-lake-with-clothes-still-on wet.

"I'm fine, Dean." Cas growled in exasperation without sparing a glance, clearly tongue-in-cheek. "Why _wouldn't_ I be?"

"What the hell happened to you, man?" Sam drawled slowly, looking him up and down, freaked out. Castiel wasn't just soaked to the bone, he was a mess; his white dress shirt was tucked halfway out of his pants and completely torn apart, pants ripped and his blue tie was missing a crucial chunk of it's overall structure. He had bloody red stains all over him, which might be fresh, but Cas was generally still dripping water right now, and Sam was certain Castiel's hair would have been standing up wildly if it wasn't so wet and flattened. It seemed like he also lost the black suit jacket along the way. Whatever that... _way_... might be.

All in all, he didn't seem to have any injuries (but he's an angel; he heals fast), but his clothes looked like scraps of some Zombie Apocalypse movie set.

"Well, I believe Dean used the banishing sigil to banish the angels, not minding collateral damage, which sent me halfway across the planet." Dean fidgeted under Cas's accusing stare.

"Yeah—no, I-I mean, why are you... _Soaked_ , and why are your clothes ripped?" Sam's stuttered, brow creasing in confusion. "You're covered in _blood_. Where the _hell_ did you land?"

"Earth, not Hell. Thought it might as well _have_ been. The South Pacific Ocean." Cas gritted, tossing Dean another accusing glare. "Specifically, six-thousand and something feet underwater. These sharks weren't very happy when I dropped out of nowhere right in the middle of their territory."

"Ow." They visibly flinched, face twisting in pain.

"Cas, I'm really sorry, buddy." Dean pleaded, trying to keep a sympathetic expression. "I'll give you a heads up next time, 'K? Sorry about that."

Cas tilted his head. "You think this is funny."

"What? No! Not at all!" Dean's poker face could be convincing most times. Other times, he was a horrible lair. "Plunging into Jaws lair? Not funny at all! Right Sammy?"

"N-no, of course not." Sam cleared his throat. "Nothing funny about that." he shook his head.

"I'm sure this seems funny to you two, but I haven't seen this much teeth since Gabriel and his nightmare piranha tank when he—;" he paused offendedly, focusing his glare back on them. Then looked down to his clothes in irritation. "I need to change." he declared and vanished before anyone could stop him. Dean released a breath, dropping his arms to the sides in a hopeless gesture. "Great."

Sam stared at him. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"Please, like you don't think it's hilarious." Dean glared back. His brows went up in question. "So... Do we wanna know about this, uh, nightmare piranha tank with Gabriel or—"

"God no."

"Thought as much."

* * *

*We still don't know what Gabriel did with Cas in Changing Channels, when he trapped Sam and Dean in TV Land. We only see a bruised nose, but let my imagination run wild for a while.


End file.
